A Christmas Gift
by Akai-neechan
Summary: For a little orphan thrown out on the streets, there are many presents he would want. But maybe this is the very thing he wanted the most.


_A/N: Ok, so this is REALLY old. As in, it was written years ago, meaning it was written BEFORE the manga showed Allen and Mana's first encounter. So, please ignore the fact that it just didn't happen like _this_. I wrote this as a little birthday to poor little Allen-kun, but then… the first year I didn't finish it before Christmas. Then, the next year other things happen. I can't believe I'm actually publishing this in the end. This must be the OneShot I've worked the hardest on, like EVER! I hope you like it!_

The snow was slowly falling down, every single snowflake, unique and different from the others took its rightful place in the sky among all of the frozen drops of water, heading towards the cold earth to settle and rest on one of the many drifts that occupied the yards of the surrounding houses. The streets were busy and crowded, as people walked in every direction, on their own or in groups countless figures roamed the wide thoroughfare. The busiest places were the central streets which were the whereabouts of almost all the shops in the town. Different kinds of decorations colored the windows and displays of the stores, from painted on the glass snowflakes, to Christmas trees of all sizes and shapes with the biggest variety of ornaments on them. The Christmas spirit was all around the small place, making everyone happy and glad that there were only two days left before the sacred holiday.

On one of those streets, though, you could see one person, who had nothing to do with all of the happiness and warmth surrounding him. It was a little boy, looking way too tiny and small for his age. The clothes he was wearing didn't really seem warm enough to keep him from freezing in this cold season, as the child didn't even have a coat or a jacket – only a shirt and a sweater that looked way too big for him, together with a pair of tattered trousers. His shoes looked like they had survived trough serving a few generations before him and didn't seem to be in a good shape at all. The boy didn't have a scarf or a hat, not ever gloves to cover his hands that were exposed to the biting cold wind that mercilessly blew from time to time. Only his left hand was wrapped in a piece of God knows what fabric and the flesh was kept away from human eyes.

The boy looked about five or six year old, still having that innocent look on his face and the features of what people could call a "cute kid". His hair, bearing the color of chocolate, surrounded the small and round childish face as the few locks that were spread on his forehead almost reached the kid's grayish-blue eyes - those two big orbs that resembled so much of frozen and covered with ice lakes, looked a bit dull.

It was, after all, what people said – "Eyes are windows to the soul". And looking into those two haunted and sad eyes would reveal more than any word from the said boy could. So many things were written in them… so many emotions starting from fear and uncertainty, sadness and despair, and reaching the most visible of them all - loneliness. In a way it seemed that they were looking towards something which was far away from the streets, like he was staring in a world that did not exist, one that only he could see.

The kid walked the streets alone, with no certain way or destination and no one even looked at him for more than a second, like only to make sure he was far enough from them. It was almost like the people saw a thread in his small figure and walked away, faces showing disdain, fear and even disgust. The path that he walked was always cleared from him, not a person would come closer than a meter from the boy, as though they would feel endangered, like he could harm them only by looking at them.

What would make those people so afraid of the lonely kid? What would make them stay so far from him, and not dare to look in his eyes? What would startle them enough to make them forget all of the human pity and sympathy and treat this orphan the way they would not treat any other?

The answer was as simple as the following three words: his left hand. That was the thing that made him so different, the thing that made him a monster that turned the cute child into a disgusting creature which had no place near them. The bloody-red rugged skin that covered his limb along with the slightly glowing green cross shaped crystal that had taken its place on the back of his small palm and could not be removed. Not that people had tried, actually – they were too terrified by it to even look at the thing, not to mention touching it.

A monster, a child of the devil, that's what all of them called him, and as time passed the boy had really started to believe that the words were true. He did not know what the cross really was, and didn't wan to know it at all, as he had grown afraid to the possibly horrifying answer of that disturbing question. He was too afraid of confirming people's fears, he was afraid of admitting to himself that he really was a monster, even though he thought he had accepted it a long time ago.

It was sad, how he hated everything and anything in this cursed place. The town was pretty small and that one fact showed perfectly well how amazingly fast rumors spread. The kid had come here about a year ago and in less than a month, the worst month in his life; he had become the outcast that he was now. He had lived in this place for such a short while, and yet he could only wish with his heart and soul that someone would come and save him from this living Hell… from the feeling of being alone and alien to all of them, to every single person that walked these streets... But he knew that no one would come. Not for him…

His icy eyes drifted up from the snow-covered road beneath him, where he had been staring until now. Nobody dared to look at him, as those big orbs met at a few distant-looking faces from the crowd that surrounded him and yet kept a considerable distance away. He could recognize all of them immediately and every single one held a painful memory – yet another old scar starting to bleed as the boy thought about it…

There was the woman that had found him and showed him the way to the orphanage. He still remembered how she had been so sweet towards him at first; the old lady had even asked him if he wanted to stay with her.

"_What a cute kid you are",_ she had said with a kind voice_. "What are you doing here all by yourself? And why is your hand covered like that? Are you hurt?"_

He had never expected her reaction as she saw the bloody skin and the cross. He had been too young back then to understand enough as to hide it and the way she had screamed and called him "monster" had left a scar in the little boy's heart. He had felt so alone then, when the first person to show care for him turned her back and just pointed the way to the orphanage with a shaking hand, before leaving him behind, dashing away in a hurry.

And there was another of those familiar faces – a father, who pulled his child, a small girl, not older than the boy - closer to himself, as he felt the orphan's stare on him. The kid let even more sadness to show on his face, as he remembered what that man had done. The sole thought of the small girl finding her way towards him, and asking him about his name had warmed the kid's heart. He remembered the sweet smile and that nice and encouraging voice of the child reaching him and making him feel better just by being there… That was, until the time he was just about to answer, when the man grabbed her hand and started pulling her away, telling her to "stay away from that monster", his voice so cold that it just like that had tore yet another part of the small child's heart.

Seeing the face of another man, who had a couple of months ago brutally and mercilessly beaten him into unconsciousness just because the boy had been "breathing his air", and because "devils like him had no place in this world", the child moved his eyes away from the crowd, his little form trembling a little.

Every face had a story and every one of them was another scar to the innocent soul of the young orphan. What had he done to deserve this? It had not been his decision to be born like that, why did he have to withstand all that happened? All of the glares send towards him… it was almost like they believed that his sole existence put the people around him in grave danger and getting a little bit close to him would lead to nothing more but the most painful death they could imagine. How could they think of him in such a way? How, when all he had ever wanted had been to be normal, to be like the other kids that ran around, playing happily, like all of those who had been taken from the orphanages he had lived in…

Yes, he remembered that happy look that was on everybody's face. The thought of finding a family, of finding people to care for you and love you as their own child, warmed every person's heart just like it warmed his. Because, despite all beliefs, he was still a human and underneath all of the pale skin there was a broken and torn to pieces heart that, just like every other one, felt the world that surrounded it and answered to everything that happened. Why did people not see how much they hurt him? Or was it… that they saw and still, continued doing it… on purpose, maybe…?

Trying to force himself away from those thoughts, he moved his gaze towards the windows of the near houses. His eyes stared at the many small and different in color and shape lights and decorations that had been put on the windows and the warmth and happiness that radiated from them… it was almost as fate was laughing in his face, showing him how all of that was so far away from his grasp, how he could never be one of those happy children, receiving presents from their family, helping them put the ornaments on the Christmas tree and singing happy songs from house to house.

The boy found himself standing in front of one of the houses, gazing towards the happy family inside, as time passed in its usual way. He did not know how long he had been doing that, and he was aware of it only when the hurting moment of the mother catching sight of him came. It was not long after that – less than two seconds actually, in which she crossed the room and slammed the window shut so that every sight, smell or noise from the warm place would be kept in there, away from the "demon child".

Hurt for yet another time, he turned away from the place and started to walk slowly trough the wide street again. His eyes were concentrated on the footprints left in the booted snow under his feet, as he was well aware that there was no need for him to watch his step, for he knew that no one was stupid enough to let himself get too close to him. His heart ached terribly at that thought, but he had learned to deal with the pain and didn't really bother pay the smallest bit of attention to it any more. It was there all the time, so why should he care if it had gotten a little worse?

In fact, he had learned how to dull it by closing himself in that little world that no one else could see – the wondrous world where he was just like the other happy people, where he had a family and friends… A world in witch he had a normal life… Because even if the others called him monster, he was still nothing more than a little boy, and as such he had the right to dream. The people had proved to be able to mercilessly take everything away from him, but they could never take away that simple and yet so precious dream of his... Never.

It was at that moment when something strange, something that the boy could never imagine happened. He bumped into someone. His ice colored eyes widened, as he took two quite hesitant, but fast steps back and broke eye contact with the cold ground to stare with obvious confusion and disbelieve towards the towering figure standing way too close to him. The person that was before him was well dressed with a top hat and a face that looked too unfamiliar to the small child, but those details had slipped his mind completely at the present moment.

At first he felt fear enter his heart – the last time he had accidentally bumped into another person he had gotten beaten so bad that he still carried the bruises and cuts on his small body. He didn't want to get hurt again, not that he thought that he could do anything; it was just that he longed for an escape, he didn't want to face this unknown and possibly dangerous person, who he – the devil in human flesh – had dared to touch. His breath became irregular and his heart fastened its pace quite a lot, as his body stiffened. He couldn't do anything. Couldn't even run away. That's how weak and terrified he was, he had always been…

The man before him obviously saw the fear that was mixed with all of the other feelings in the small child's eyes and smiled a little. That one simple-looking gesture made the smaller one's heart skip one beat. Had he just been given a smile? He stared with wide eyes towards the stranger, trying to put at least some of his own thoughts in the right place, if there was one, actually, as he couldn't take his eyes off from the one standing before him.

But one thing was certain for the boy – he was only smiling, because he didn't know of his hand. He didn't know of the horrors that lied on the carefully hidden skin, what deformation rested on that left hand. That was obviously the only reason that this person was still standing there, looking calmly towards him – he didn't know…

"You don't need to be scared, little one" his voice held such warmth and fondness that the boy couldn't help but calm down a bit. He felt his body relax and his breath started to return to normal. And yet, he wasn't sure weather he should be taking this so easily – he didn't want any more scars… "What's your name?"

The question startled him a bit, as he kept his uncertain and doubtful gaze on the person before him. Why did he care for his name? It wouldn't matter since after he saw the cursed arm, he would just call him "monster", like everyone else did. He didn't need to care, he wasn't supposed to care. Nobody did… whenever someone actually appeared to be kind to the boy it always turned out to be even more painful when they left, than it would have been, if they had just shoved him aside. There was no need to even hope that he would be accepted from someone. He knew that nobody would do that…

"I… I'm…" he heard his voice say the words, before he even realized what he was doing. That wasn't normal, was it? For your mouth to talk by itself when you don't want it to… it couldn't be normal… Not that anything about him was what people could really call "normal"… "I'm Allen."

His voice was quiet and suited the small figure of the boy. He talked so hesitantly and his words were so uncertain that one would think he didn't want to be heard over the sound of the surrounding crowd. Like he wanted his words to be lost between the sounds of the busy street, to vanish between the screams and loud voices that hung above the many people out there and never to reach somebody's ears. But because of the fact that he was close enough to the boy, the older man could hear him well enough ever trough the tumult seemed to want his words to not be heard, just as much as the small one desired it.

"You have a good name, Allen" said the man. The small boy was thunderstruck. None of this could really be happening. He must have sunk into his imaginary world way too deeply and now couldn't tell what was really there and what wasn't. He was probably only standing before the trunk of a tree or something like that, talking to himself. That would make people think even worse of him, not that he thought it could get worse and yet… "My name is Mana. Mana Walker."

The not-so-strange-anymore stranger's voice came from too close and the kid was startled when he realized that he had ducked, supporting his body with one knee on the ground and was now at the boy's eyelevel. Allen had been lost a bit in his thoughts, not realizing when the man had moved and ended up staring at him with dread and discomfort for a second. He than saw the man's arm start to rise up and the boy felt himself be overwhelmed by the rising fear in his small heart that started to overwhelm him. He tried to take a step back, only to trip in his own clumsy feet and fall on the cold and hard ground. Realizing that he couldn't run or get away while in this inconvenient position, he just clenched his eyes shut and tried to get ready for the pain that he expected to come.

The boy became even more confused when it never came.

Instead he felt something a bit heavy and very warm rest on his head. Allen was unprepared for this, not knowing what could have happened. His young brain had no experience with things like this and he had no idea what was expected for him to do. The fear was partially pushed away by what little bit of curiosity had been left within him and he daringly started to slowly open his eyes. When he met the man's dark orbs and saw his hand stretched and rested on his own shaking head, the boy had no idea what to do. It was an all too unfamiliar sensation and he could only stay there, sitting on the cold ground as Mana ruffled his hair a bit.

"I told you not to be afraid," the older one's voice sounded just like it had been earlier – kind and caring, somehow warming the trembling boy from inside. Allen could not possibly know how to react, as he sat there, so he just waited. He waited to see what the man would do. And he didn't have to wait too much, as Mana took his hand off from his hand in just a few seconds, standing up as he towered over the boy and raised the same right hand towards his small figure. "Do you need some help?"

For a few seconds, the boy just continued to sit there. The thought that he couldn't move passed his mind as he was wondering why he hadn't made a move since he had fallen on the ground. This all seemed so strange to him, that he wasn't sure weather he wasn't dreaming or something. _'But… his hand was so warm…'_ he thought to himself_. 'It was real, I'm sure… It can't be a dream…_'

And the way he raised his hand… Allen had seen other people do it, if they accidentally bumped someone and sent him on the ground, or when someone was just sitting and needed a hand to stand up… Yet he had never been offered any help before… It was so unnatural for him, but he felt it would be terribly rude to deny the little assistance that the man was so willingly giving him. He felt his slightly trembling right hand rise from its place on the ground next to him and uncertainly pass the small distance towards the man's palm.

When he finally touched it, Allen was surprised how warm it felt against him frozen hand. The boy's palm, bared to the merciless wind and the biting cold temperature of this time of the year, lied in the bigger hand of the older man and seemed so small and pale against the older one's skin, that it just couldn't be normal for a healthy human hand to be. The boy clearly saw the small frown that appeared on Mana's face and worried a little, not knowing why the man's smile had vanished. He was left with the impression, that something about him was the reason and felt like he should just get swallowed by the ground and go down to the boiling Hell itself for making the older person loose his good mood. But then he suddenly felt warm fingers clench around his freezing small hand, like they were trying to give just a bit of their own warmth to the child and isolate him from the cold reality that surrounded him.

The boy felt himself being pulled up carefully and was surprised how fast he was brought up to his feet. The entire event was blurry in his mind, as he wasn't really sure what was really going on. He had been terribly frightened at first, uncertain and doubtful, but this man really didn't seem like he would harm him. It was strange how the boy felt he could trust him, not even knowing why he agreed to do that. It just seemed right to give this person at least a bit of the little trust, left in his heart, since; after all, he was obviously more than willing to help.

"Th-thank you… Mana…" The boy felt his voice a bit calmer this time, not that same small voice that a person could hardly hear. This time he wanted the older man to hear him, to see that even he wasn't mute and didn't have big problems with talking to others. Yet, the gratitude had sounded somehow awkward, since he was most certainly not used to thanking people – there had hardly been any need for him to do it, since no one would ever help him… Not until now, that is…

"Aren't you cold?" asked the older man suddenly.

The smile appeared again on his face, obviously reaching his eyes, which the boy now realized were a really dark shade of brown, so close to black that a person could hardly notice the faint difference at first glance, yet it was there. There was a strange secrecy that those dark orbs held, and yet they radiated with the warmth that reached the boy and made him feel much better than he had ever felt before. It was almost like this person's look itself made him feel calmer and more in place while he was standing close to him, unlike others' looks that made him want to run and hide in a place where no one could ever reach or see him.

"Yes… A little…" He wasn't sure why the man had asked him, but now that he mentioned it the boy realized how much colder his butt had gotten from sitting on the ground. It really hadn't been comfortable and he could now feel the seat of his trousers wet and unpleasant. His left hand was considerably warmer than his right one, being hidden from the cold air, but he could still feel the chill slipping under his big sweater, sending shivers down his back. His cheeks were also really cold, as was his nose and for his feet… He had lost the sense of cold in them a long time ago – around half an hour after he had left the orphanage that morning. The warn out shoes were wet and cold and he was sure the same went for his socks as well, but couldn't really tell since his feet were way too numb to give him the answer and he didn't intend to take the shoes off and check.

In a second Allen was brought out of his thoughts, as the cold air was introduced to his right hand again as Mana freed it from his grasp. The boy couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed – he had really liked the way his hand had grown just the slightest bit warmer and the sensation of the biting wind had been taken away. Yet it was like there had been something more to that disappointment than just the change of the temperature, like he had wanted for the man to hold his hand just a little bit longer, to show him that, yes, someone _did_ actually help _him_ just now. And it had been a complete stranger, when the people he partially knew, because he couldn't say he really knew anyone from around here, wouldn't even look at him. It had brought to him a strange and unfamiliar feeling of comfort and of being safe and cared for, even if it was just the slightest bit…

Unconsciously, Allen's eyes followed the other person's arm and he blinked, when he realized that the man had let go of him, so he can easily take off his coat. For a second he was left blinking questionably, wondering why Mana had done that – it was extremely cold and if the boy hadn't been at least a little used to staying outside with so little clothes on him, he would have probably stayed in the orphanage… Not that it was so warm there, but with some warmer clothes on, it was quite easy to survive… Easier than it was outside, at least.

The answer of his unspoken question hit him hard on the head, as the boy saw how the older male gently put the coat over his smaller and slightly trembling shoulders. Allen felt the warmth of the cloth immediately, as it rested on his cold back and appeared to make all of the chills go away. The coat itself was long enough to reach under his knees, but not so it would brush the ground. The boy realized how much warmer it was like that and it was quite surprising… Was that what it felt to have some warm clothing during winter? He wouldn't know.

In every orphanage he lived in he had always been the last to be looked after. He only got new clothes, if all of the other kids had gotten, seldom got things like toys or books or such and never went with the others when there were some events that took place. He never ate on the table with all of the others and got only what was left over by the hungry kids, long after they were finished and gone away from the rooms they were fed. He had never been treated like the other kids and supposed that he will forever stay like that – who would care for someone like him, anyway?

'_Even Mana wouldn't,'_ he thought sadly, as he seemed to shrink in the comfortable embrace of the coat like he tried to hide from everything that surrounded him, but most of all – from that one horrifying truth_. 'Even he wouldn't care, if he knew…' _

"Is that better?" The older man's voice startled him a bit, as he had let himself wander between the many misfortunes of his life. Allen looked towards his face only to be met by a pair of dark eyes and the comforting gaze that was sent towards him and it made him forget about those troubles, at least at the moment. The boy nodded his head in a silent reply, as he finally let a small smile appear on his face. The kid's face seemed to shine at that moment, as the corners of his mouth rose just the slightest bit and the warm look reached his ice colored eyes, chasing away the loneliness from them.

No, Allen felt no longer alone as he saw in Mana a person, who might just be what people called a "father". It was a distant dream, really, that he would ever get trusted enough, to be taken to somebody's home, especially after the man saw his arm – which he was sure would happen. He wouldn't be able to ever get the chance of having a family, of finding what "father" and "mother" really meant, but… he felt, deep inside of him, that even if he had only that day to spend with someone who could make him feel cared for and accepted, he would cherish every moment of it for the rest of his life.


End file.
